


a sentimental fool

by PyjamaEnzel



Series: Imry & Akiv'a [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Angst, Gen, a very long grieving process, some fantasy violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:40:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23090368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PyjamaEnzel/pseuds/PyjamaEnzel
Summary: Sidurgu has found a strange ally in the young woman who took up Fray's legacy by chance. But when he discovers she no longer possesses his companion's sword and soul crystal, he questions her. And isn't sure he likes the answer.Spoilers for Final Fantasy XIV: Heavensward main story, as well as the Dark Knight class quests levels 30-60. Illustrated.(Roegadyn [Sea Wolf] Warrior of Light)
Series: Imry & Akiv'a [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1687711
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> Tohnrune & Akiv'a are my partner's characters, Imry is mine.

“What she _is_ , is _infuriating_ ,” Sidurgu snapped, unable to resist a glance at the offending party, who was a good fifteen yalms away and oblivious. 

The Eorzean tongue was a frustrating and often absurd language, but at least it was useful for being precise about just how irritated one was. 

His companion leaned an elbow on the ale-stained table and gave him a grin full of teeth. Her usual face-concealing scarf had been pushed down around her neck, tinted goggles propped on her forehead, and her eyes glittered with amusement in the dim light. “You don't mean charming?”

  


“Please, tell me again how such a….a naive, bumbling _oaf_ became one of these famed ‘Warriors of Light’...”

“Come on now--” Tohnrune reached out and snagged a pastry from the paper box the subject of their conversation had brought earlier. She stuffed it into her mouth rather ungraciously, and proceeded to speak around it, which coupled with her fangs made her nearly incomprehensible. “Y’kn shd tlla urslf’f y’ash…”

Sidurgu scowled at her--more deeply than he had been already. It took him a moment to understand what she was saying, and he had half a mind to pretend he couldn't at all.

_You know she’d tell you herself if you asked._

“You _believe_ half the ridiculous tales she tells?”

“You think she could lie without crying?” Tohnrune snorted. “Imry hasn't got a dishonest bone in her body.”

He knew all too well that was the truth, so he bit his tongue and watched the pair by the fireplace instead. 

  
  


Rielle sat by the Forgotten Knight’s hearth, her face turned upward towards the other young woman in rapt attention. And barely a woman she was--scarcely nineteen summers and twice as big as she really ought to be. There weren't many Roegadyn in Ishgard, even with the gates opened. Warrior of Light or no, Imry would have turned heads regardless. Tohnrune had assured him most of them didn't get as big as she was anyway, but it still chafed a bit that she stood nearly a head taller than him still…

Her voice was also the same size as the rest of her. It _carried-_ -more curse than blessing, Sidurgu felt. There were more than a few heads at the bar turned to listen to whatever adventure she was recounting, some nonsense about a crab the size of a small airship--

“She might burst into flame if she tried.” Tohnrune’s grin had widened. He knew she was trying to lighten the mood, and found himself half exasperated and half grateful. He turned back to her, taking care to lower his voice. Not that it mattered much; no one was paying any attention to them.

“Then have you seen it?”

The grin vanished. Tohnrune regarded him silently a moment, and he knew her well enough to tell by her expression that she was suppressing the twitch of her tail under her long coat. 

“Seen what, hm?” 

“You _know_ what--” Once again Sidurgu failed to keep the irritation from his voice. It was something he'd never been able to master, unlike-- “The creature she created from the soul crystal. By all rights it should have returned to her, or vanished--people can't simply _walk about_ with half of themselves missing and no ill effects! Yet she speaks about it as if it were--”

“I saw it,” Tohnrune said abruptly, her tone odd. “I saw _her_.”

That was enough to make him fall silent and listen, though she took a moment to continue.

“More like I noticed the sword first. Was never much to look at, but he preferred it that way, didn't he? Fray. That was when I knew he'd gotten himself into trouble, if someone else was carrying his blade.” 

Tohnrune’s expression would have looked almost bored to someone unfamiliar, eyes half closed. She pulled her nearly empty drink closer and stared into it. 

“Course I asked. It was uncanny…” She reached up and drew a line across her left cheek with one gloved finger. “It's her face, Imry's...even got the scar. But it wasn't her. She wouldn't give me a straight answer as to where she got the sword. Left in a hurry. Now that I've heard the whole tale, it starts to come together.”

“ _What_ does.”

“Well, _someone_ hasn't gotten any less impatient in his old age.” 

He bristled at that, but she continued before he could say anything. “Seems almost absurd that someone like Imry would have any darkness in her at all, let alone enough to make something like _that_. But something filled in the gaps. It's not half of Imry. It's _half_ Imry. And the rest...well, I'll let you use your imagination.”

He didn't like how that made him feel, any of it. For too many reasons to consider. Tohnrune watched his expression for a long moment, then hers softened the slightest fraction.

“Don't mistake me. It's not _him_ anymore than it's her--it didn't recognize me. There aren't any memories left. It's something else entirely--something new.” She drew in a breath. “ _Someone_ new.”

“It isn't _alive_. That fool gave it the soul crystal, when I told her to surrender it to me she refused, some nonsense about keeping it from disappearing--”

“You're welcome to have the scholarly debate on its nature with our big green friend, I’m not interested. Just what do you plan to do?” 

________________________________

Several moons before, Sidurgu had found a lead on solving the mystery that stalked his young charge. 

He’d bribed a desperate airship captain to carry them to the Sea of Clouds, and could only hope it was enough for the voyage and the man’s silence, but it would have to do. He was tired of waiting for Rielle’s enemies to come to them. There had been a respite for a time, what with the chaos in the wake of Ser Aymeric’s arrest and the disappearance of the Archbishop. Some time after came rumors of a tentative alliance between the knights of Camp Cloudtop and a village of Vanu Vanu who had opposed their brethren’s summoning of the primal Bismarck, and aided the Warriors of Light in its defeat.

The sunrise was veiled by heavy clouds, the thin air bitingly cold, but Rielle had refused to go below decks and instead clung to the railing, staring out at the endless expanse of sky, thin-lipped and paler than usual. Heights made her dizzy, perhaps because she hadn’t had much experience with them, after years in a tiny cell. But alongside the fear in her eyes was was a fierce, hungry wonder, one he understood more than he liked to admit. It was the same feeling a young refugee had experienced upon first seeing the steely spires of Ishgard, after months of traveling with fear and hunger as constant companions.

That wonder hadn’t lasted, just as that child was unrecognizable now. But the memory lingered, and he couldn’t find it in him to let go of it entirely.

The ship’s captain stopped at a small island holding nothing but a patch of scrubby grass and a blinking airship waymarker thrust into the thin soil. A moment after he touched down, heedless of danger, Rielle darted down the gangplank and promptly lost her breakfast. Sidurgu wasn’t so fond of airship travel himself, and he had to turn his head away lest he risk unsettling his own stomach further.

Two bells, no more, the captain had insisted nervously. They struck out on foot, up a winding incline toward the nearby village. There were no guide rails by the edges of the floating islands, and Rielle stayed closer to his side than usual, sometimes reaching out to put a hand against his armored forearm to steady herself. She stopped once to pick up a tiny shard of wind crystal half buried in the dirt, tucking it into her pocket. They were in abundance here; in fact, they were the reason the islets stayed aloft.

The Vanu Vanu were wary and spoke broken Eorzean, but it was enough to communicate what he wanted and hand over the gift he’d brought to bargain. Rielle looked up at them warily, but she seemed to have temporarily forgotten her fear of heights at the sight of their bright feathers.

All of a sudden a commotion broke out, and the Vanu began chattering amongst themselves and pointing. His stomach sank; they’d been followed. And these knights were bold, or perhaps they didn’t care about the tentative peace. Their shields were blank; perhaps if they’d carried the rose of House Haillenarte he would have hoped for a parley. After all, it was common knowledge the knights stationed at Cloudtop were too soft for the front lines.

He drew his sword. The Vanu scattered, clearly unwilling to be involved in what they’d see as an internal dispute. Rielle was casting around her, taking stock of the closest ledge. He noted that–there might be no need to run their enemies through, merely make sure they lost their balance…but the same went for the two of them.

Four knights. Perhaps no more could be spared on short notice. He counted that as a blessing and went on the offensive; after all, they’d already drawn their swords.

There was a yelp of fear from behind him, and his heart seized. Another two had approached from behind, a calculated pincer move, and now they stood between him and Rielle, who was only a few yalms away from a sheer drop. He extended a hand to–

The figure came from seemingly thin air, though afterward he realized it must have jumped down from the ledge above. His first thought was that one of the Vanu had inexplicably decided to join the fray, as it was nearly big enough to be one. But it was covered in armor instead of feathers, and bore a shield and sword and moved in a decidedly different way.

The newcomer lifted an arm and used it, shield and all, like a battering ram, sending one knight careening backwards. The other’s sword, the swing made careless by surprise, glanced off the strange warrior’s armor.

_The enemy of my enemy, then–I’ll take it for now._

At least the sudden arrival had startled the four facing him as well. He used that to gain the upper hand over their numbers.

It was over quickly. One he cast over the edge with a well-timed kick. It would not be a quick death, a fall thousands of yalms onto the jagged peaks of Abalathia’s Spine, his body never to be recovered from the middle of a vast stretch of wilderness. There was some satisfaction in that, though Sidurgu wouldn’t be the one to land the killing blow. For those who died far from their homes, an eye for an eye, a limb for a limb.

One fled back the way they’d came. He didn’t care if it were cowardice or to carry back news to defeat to their master, but he made note of it. As soon as Rielle was safe, he’d pursue–

The strange warrior had made quick work of their two opponents, who now lay crumpled on the ground. A third joined them soon enough, then the last. Rielle was staring up at the armored figure with a strange expression, half crouched, when suddenly she darted out and around them and made straight for Sidurgu’s side.

Smart girl, he had to admit. She’d been waiting for the warrior to look distracted.

“Sid,” she said, grasping his wrist with both hands, her voice very small. It was the first she’d spoken all day. “His sword…”

The sword had been so familiar-looking that he hadn’t noticed. He cursed himself inwardly.

The stranger turned towards them, thrusting said sword into the ground so it stood up on its own, and reached up to remove their helmet. Red hair, streaked brighter in places by the sun, pinned to the back of their head in a long, coiled braid, though wisps of it were escaping wildly thanks to the chafing of the helmet. A wide, flat brow, deep-set pale eyes, and a jagged white scar cutting the left cheek at an angle.

“I’m sorry for frightening you,” she said.

At least, he was fairly certain it was a woman’s voice, though deeper than most; several years here had taught him that determining an Eorzean’s gender by their size alone was a futile effort. She was no Elezen, that was for sure, and despite the rounded ears like a Hyur she was easily twice the size of one, in both directions.

“I don’t know what those knights were thinking, trying to hurt a child!” She reached up to push the stray hair back from her face, looking troubled. Sidurgu suddenly remembered the chatter in the Forgotten Knight a few moons before, about the arrival of the wards of House Fortemps, the so-called Warriors of Light–

_"Fury cut me down if I lie, nine yalms tall and hair like fire, and she’s green–"_

_They’d been exaggerating the height,_ he thought distastefully. _Eight at most._

He straightened almost unconsciously to make use of his own height, though he still barely cleared her shoulder.

“It doesn’t matter. They’re finished.”

“Aymeric would want to hear about this…”

First name terms with the Lord Commander! Perhaps there was some truth to the wild tales. But the too-open sky was making him uneasy. The airship that had brought the knights had to be nearby still, and most likely it had frightened off their ride home…

“It’s not safe here.” His voice was flat and brooked no argument. The newcomer blinked in surprise, then waved them up the hill towards the Vanu village. He shook his head. “They won’t be grateful to us for bringing a fight to their door.”

“It’s all right, I’ll explain.” And she did, somehow. Though the bird-men chattered at her in their strange whistling language, and she replied in Eorzean, they seemed to understand each other just fine.

As for Fray’s sword, it wasn’t difficult to get the whole story out of her, and that disturbed him a little. Had she no discretion? If she were on such close terms with the Lord Commander, was he aware his ally had taken up a supposed heretic’s blade? Or did he simply not care? Even now with the truth of Ishgard’s sordid history revealed, there were many who refused to move on from the old ways of thinking. Heretics were heretics, and dangerous, whether they consorted with dragons or no.

As for Imry herself, Sidurgu had difficulty knowing what to make of her. She was powerful, that he had to admit. But he couldn’t understand how she had resonated with Fray’s soul stone. By her own admission, she’d seen her share of death and betrayal before arriving in Ishgard, but no trace of it seemed to cling to her. She simply wasn’t someone who harbored darkness. There was nowhere for it to fester.

He knew not what would happen if she continued on the dark knight’s path, and that made him uneasy. Neither he nor Fray had completed their training before their master’s passing, and Tohnrune had left early on to pursue a life in the skies. They had only their memories and scattered rumors murmured among highborn and lowborn, with decidedly different tones depending on who you heard them from.

As bewildering as Imry was, however, Sidurgu was reluctant to turn her away, seeing as she was quite happy to lend her strength to protecting Rielle. He was loathe to admit it, but he was far out of his depth. And Rielle herself was different around her. Usually reticent and shy, she listened to Imry’s stories of her adventures with eagerness, asked her questions of the world beyond Coerthas. In fact, he’d never heard her speak so much, not even when Fray was still…

Imry told them where they’d buried him, but he refused to visit the grave. There was too much to be done, still. Perhaps...someday.

That tale still held loose ends. Imry’s darkness, whatever she had, and the soul crystal's memories had created something dangerous. Not by virtue of darkness alone, but the fact that she couldn’t control the thing–and seemed to have no desire to. Moreover she spoke of it as if it were another person–a wayward sister and not a being that would take her body for its own if it could.

Something had to be done, and neither Imry nor her companions seemed to understand what was at risk.

He’d tried to get her to surrender the soul crystal. She’d refused, and when he demanded an explanation, looked at him with uncharacteristic solemnity.

“I don’t know what would happen to her if I did.”

It was that softness that frustrated him the most about her: her unwillingness to take a life, any life. Even a half formed one that was more dead than alive. How had she gotten this far without killing? Even at their first meeting she’d only stunned their opponents; when he’d learned that he’d tracked them down and finished them off himself. Had her companions shielded her from the harsh truth of the world for this long? She’d picked up his own martial techniques with surprising speed, yet the only time he’d ever seen her use darkness in battle was to shield Rielle. It was baffling at the least, and altogether–

Maddening.

He resented it. That she thought she could choose, that mercy was something to be given so freely, that she’d never been punished for it and yet his family had–

He needed answers. And perhaps there was someone…something that could give them.


	2. two

He’d said he needed to take care of something. At least he knew Imry would rather let herself be run through then allow harm to come to Rielle. The latter had watched him go, a strange look in her eyes, but remained silent. She was a perceptive girl. Perhaps she guessed.

It was midday, yet the dim overcast one Coerthas was accustomed to, high winds whipping around any snow that wasn’t tightly packed by the passage of man or beast. But the moment he stepped out into the wilds, away from the mess of the city, he could sense it. He’d felt it before, but not known what it was. A presence. Or an absence of one, really. His path lead him through Camp Dragonhead, following that ache deep in his chest, north toward the ruins of the Steel Vigil. Few dragons lingered outside the walls any longer, and for that he was almost grateful. He had a feeling he might need to save his strength.

He’d have thought it a rocky outcropping through the wind-driven snow, if not for the tangible presence of something that must have been darkness and yet wasn’t. A figure standing very still, its back to him, regarding the shadowy outline of the city through the heavy air.

This time, he recognized the sword first. That explained why Imry no longer carried it. As he drew closer, he noted that the figure could be mistaken for a statue were it not for the wind picking at its hair and armor. It did not move in the way a living being did, did not breathe. He knew it sensed his approach.

When it finally turned to face him, he realized Tohnrune’s description hadn’t quite prepared him for how uncanny the sight was.

It was, in fact, Imry–her height, her face, the same nose, the same scar. But at the same time, it wasn’t–where her fiery red hair was usually carefully pinned up out of the way, there was a wave of ink black that tumbled down over its shoulders. The wind pulled at it, but it resisted unnaturally, as if it weren’t quite physically there.

It stared down at him with a curiously blank expression, as if not understanding what it was seeing. And its eyes…they were the color of a blood sunrise, the kind that warned sailors of an imminent storm. Not only that, but he could swear they gave off their own light, leaving streaks of afterimage in the air when it shifted.

_“What do you want?”_

The voice, too, was Imry’s, though he’d never heard that tone from her, hard and wary. He nearly didn't recognize it.

“You carry something that doesn’t belong to you.” It sprang to his lips suddenly–he hadn’t thought of what he was going to say. In some ways he hadn’t expected it to speak. “I’ve come come to take it back.”

No reply came. Instead the figure regarded him silently for a long moment, then turned away.

“You know exactly what I mean–” he began, and it reached for its sword, so he reached for his.

Their blades struck sparks, snow melted in a flash and froze over again. He soon saw they were fairly evenly matched–perhaps he had the edge in skill, but the sheer power in his opponent’s blows–And the darkness flowed around it like water, in flames and great jagged grasping teeth, tearing at him. He countered with his own, fighting to keep his balance, as the soft, newformed ice beneath their feet cracked and scattered.

“ _You’re_ the one,” it said, and though it didn’t seem to raise its voice, it was clearly heard over the clash of battle, his breathing– “You’re the one who thinks you can use her. And you’d be right–the gullible _fool_. Your mistake was thinking we’re the same!”

He raised an arm briefly to shield his face from an upheaval of snow and chips of ice, bracing his sword against the uneven ground. The creature struck, slamming bodily into him, sending them both tumbling. He felt a brief flash of pain as something hard scraped against the scales on the back of his neck, enough to tell him that if it were bare skin it would have been sliced through. He tried to land on his side in order to scramble upward, but it weighed far more than he did and landed with a knee on his stomach, knocking the wind out of him. A painful vibration shook him as that sword sunk into the packed snow mere ilms from his left horn. He gritted his teeth, feeling around for the hilt of his own. It was nowhere close.

The creature regarded him with a strange expression, half contempt and half something else entirely. Whatever it was, it looked alien on Imry’s features.

“If I cut you down here–wouldn’t that be humiliating?”

“For you, perhaps–” he spat out, managing it with only a single gasp.

“Don’t test me–”

“Or what?”

It leaned down closer to his face, eyes blazing with cold fury. A familiar fury. Tohnrune’s words sprang to mind– _something else filled in the gaps._ The freezing air made clouds of his breath but not the other’s.

“Strength is pain. Strength is suffering.” He spoke the words his master had repeated to them over and over, to be sure they’d made their choice…

_“Strength is sacrifice–”_ was its reply, in the wrong voice but familiar words in a familiar tone and with a familiar conviction. Eyes wide and a little wild.

“I never once spoke those words to her,” Sidurgu said, feeling lightheaded. He was almost grateful he was lying on the ground.

It stared at him.

Impulsively he reached up to grasp the thin chain barely visible around its neck, and pulled–the soul crystal fell free. He grasped it–

Barely felt the hand close over his wrist, as the crystal seared through his glove. He couldn’t tell if it was too hot or cold–perhaps both. A wave of fear and uncertainty washed over him, and it took him a moment to realize it wasn’t his own.

It–…she? He…? Had gone ashen. The grip on his arm was not nearly as strong as it should have been. For a moment the person above him was much smaller, wearing familiar armor–

He strained upward, pushing with his free arm and slamming his shoulder into his opponent’s chest; for what seemed like an age but was perhaps only a couple seconds, it didn’t move. It was heavier than it had any right to be. He managed to get a leg under himself for leverage and they both tumbled over back into the snow. Breathing hard, he twisted his hand, and the chain snapped, the soul crystal coming free in his hand.

Under his armor, his own soul crystal blazed white-hot against his skin. In such close proximity, linked by touch, the two stones resonated. He gritted his teeth, and the figure below him convulsed as if in pain, hands grasping uselessly at his chest, unable to find purchase on his breastplate. Darkness crept out around it like dense smoke through the gaps in its armor, wavering, and one hand finally found his wrist again, holding on desperately when he tried to jerk it back.

_“I didn’t ask for this!”_

The voice didn’t speak aloud. It resounded in his head in a way that was impossible for his horns to project, two voices as one. Desperation, fear, anger, confusion…loss. Frustration. He tried to push all those emotions away, but it was becoming difficult to tell which ones didn’t belong to him.

_It’s trying to deceive you–fight it!_

“She made me–she asked me to live for her–all I wanted was to be whole…”

_You never will be. Just as we all lose pieces of ourselves._

He shook off its hand and stood, unsteady. Fray’s sword was still thrust into the ground, right within arm’s reach. He grasped the hilt.

“Consider this–a mercy.”

The creature laughed bitterly, curled up on its side. “Spoken just like an inquisitor. I’m impressed by your imitation.”

Sidurgu froze.

It shuddered a little, then rolled onto its back. Then simply lay there, waiting. Neither of them moved.

“…well? Get it over with.”

The voice was only Imry’s now, and tired. Resigned.

Wondering if he’d regret it–a familiar feeling when said Warrior of Light was involved–he spoke.

“You wish for death?”

The response took a moment to come.

“Does it matter? Everyone seems so eager to dole it out.” Heavy snowflakes, driven at an angle by the wind, caught on the ridges of its armor and gathered there. He looked down at the soul stone in his hand. It still burned to hold, and the bits of snow that landed against it sublimated instantly into tiny puffs of steam. And something else he’d missed, drowned out by his own adrenaline-elevated heartbeat–another heartbeat that pulsated from the stone itself. The figure sprawled in the snow with no blood and no breath, and this…

“You don’t remember anything,” he said, unsure of whether he wanted it to be true or not.

“I remember,” Imry’s voice was distant. It was still unsettling, hearing it speak like him, but mismatched with the face, the body… “I remember the trial. I remember–dying. I remember the sound of waves and the wind–” The voice stopped suddenly. The snow was falling thicker and heavier now. The figure shifted, climbed slowly to its feet. It stood with a hand pressed to the center of its chest, trembling, as if in pain. Could it even feel pain? “None of it is mine. Not the memories–not the sword–you can take it.”

“I have a sword of my own, I have no need for sentiment.” Sidurgu’s eyes narrowed.

The creature smiled at him, rather grimly. “Something tells me you have too much sentiment. Why hesitate now? You came here with resolve.” It flung out its arms, almost angrily. “You didn’t stop to think about what you’d do once you got here, did you? You let your own self-righteousness get the better of you! Typical.”

“A fair imitation of him, but it falls short a few paces.” He let go of the sword, took a step forward. “The dead are better left to rest.”

“As if _I’m_ the one you should be lecturing about that!”

“Return what you took from her. The rest is this, isn’t it?” He held up the soul crystal. “Just an echo.” Centuries of echoes carved upon it, shaped into some facsimile of a person…

He expected another attack, or denial–or even for it to flee. Instead it extended a hand, palm open, a gesture he’d done countless times as part of his training. The smile on Imry’s face was pained and wild, all at once. His stomach jolted.

“See for yourself,” it said softly.

____________________________

He came to with cold stone at his back. Everything ached, but distantly, as if he’d been in a fight a few days before and it was just catching up to him.

There was another figure sprawled at his feet, though it took them a moment to register who. Imry, in unfamiliar armor–it had been enameled in white once but bore too many scratches and scars now. He recognized the battered round shield she always insisted on carrying, but the sword he’d never seen before. It was small, and quite frankly, entirely unremarkable.

After a moment she stirred, as if waking up from a long sleep, though the place they lay was hardly appropriate for for a nap.

“Are you all right?” he found himself saying. “I’ve been waiting for you to open your eyes.”

-

The next time they saw her, she seemed diminished. Not physically, but in presence. There were dark circles under her eyes, as if she hadn’t been sleeping well. She carried their sword across her back now, but she had insisted on keeping the shield…

“I don’t understand,” Imry was saying, lifting a hand to pinch the wide bridge of her nose. “You want me to fight these beasts, but–have they attacked someone? Can they be eaten?”

“I need to be able to gauge your strength.”

“If that’s all it is, let’s go see Haurchefant. I bet he would spar with me again–”

“Imry,” they said impatiently, “a real fight. With real stakes.”

“Why haven’t we asked the locals, then? Maybe there’s something I can do for–”

They interrupted her. “Do you do this wherever you go? Looking for grunt work like a common sellsword? Your skills demand more than that.”

Her brow furrowed in bewilderment. They sighed. “Never mind. If you insist. If we’re lucky, perhaps they’re being terrorized by some overgrown monster.”

“That wouldn’t be lucky…” The confusion was evident in her voice. “It means people are getting hurt.”

“Yes, yes, and you’d be able to save them. That’s what a champion of the weak does, isn’t it?”

Imry looked uncertain. “Of course,” she replied after a moment, without much conviction.

-

She had new armor, finally. The Lord of House Fortemps had gifted it to her for her service. But she stubbornly refused to give up her shield. It looked even smaller and shabbier now against the shine of new-forged metal.

“Treating with the heretics? Are you all mad?”

“It’ll probably be a long journey,” she said. She had her back to them, busying herself with her chocobo’s tack. The normally placid, easygoing beast was shifting and whistling anxiously. Imry patted the side of her neck. “It’s all right, girl. We’ll get you something warm to wear–”

“And whose godsforsakenly foolish idea was that–”

“Mine,” she said firmly. “And Alphinaud’s.”

“The war in Ishgard has raged on for a thousand years. You don’t think people have have tried to end it before, and failed?”

“If we don’t try, more people will die. I have to do what I can.”

“This isn’t even your homeland!”

She turned to face them again, and her eyes were bright and full of worry. Infuriating. “It’s yours, though. Isn’t it?”

They didn’t know what to say.

-

“You smell like blood.”

Imry looked at them wearily. “Estinien got the worst of it…I think his armor may be ruined.”

“If you didn’t look fit to keel over at any moment, I’d say this were the perfect time…” Communion required a sacrifice, after all.

“You always have such strange…” she took a moment to find the word. “Priorities.”

“Ah, you’re right. I should be congratulating you on your victory. And I do mean that–”

“I just came to tell you the news. Because it’s been so long.”

“Imry, every citizen has been shouting of Nidhogg’s demise from the rooftops. You don’t think I would have heard?”

Imry was silent for a moment, seated on the steps, hands folded over the helm in her lap. Her hair had matted from being underneath it so long, her lips cracked from the cold.

“I wanted to tell you myself,” she said finally. “The truth. About Ishgard.”

They were silent as she recounted the tale. Despite the horror of the revelation, deep down, they knew–it was a familiar one. A tale that repeated itself through the ages, in ways both large and small. Greed, violence, retribution. Once the cycle began, it often didn’t end until everyone involved was dead. And dragons had much longer memories than man…

There was quiet for a long time after Imry finished speaking. Finally, she looked up at the overcast sky.

“Do you think things can finally change now?”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” they said scathingly. “You really believe the clergy, the nobles, would ever admit to such a truth? They’d rather sit on their power and keep sending the lowborn off to war.”

“But why would they give up the chance for peace?”

That was just it, wasn’t it. Why, indeed? Why was she so _simple?_

“I envy the world you live in,” they said coldly.

“It’s the same as yours,” she said, not understanding the idiom, as usual.

“Come see me again in a day. That should be enough. Now go back to your friends.”

-

She didn’t return for a week and a half. When she did, it was out of full armor; she wore a chain shirt under her heavy coat, and her hair was down in two long braids. She smelled of the reagents they used to clean bandages in the infirmary.

She sat down where she had the last time, and said nothing for a long while. For once, they broke the silence.

“It’s been some time.”

“I’m sorry.” Her voice was…frighteningly subdued. “I don’t know where to begin.”

“You, at a loss for words? I’m shocked.”

“I didn’t want to leave Akiv'a. He hasn’t been himself since–” A deep breath. “Since what happened in the Vault.” Her gloved fingers curled slightly in her lap.

_And what about you?_

“I hear you two are inseparable.”

“He’s my best friend,” she said, fiercely. “We always have each other’s backs. That’s why–”

_Why does it hurt? What have you given up?_

_**“I need to be stronger.”** _

Neither of them knew which one had spoken aloud.

-

_You understand now, don’t you? You and I…we’re the same._

Imry–

You called out to me. You pulled me from the darkness. This was your _will…and now I’ve decided._

_Everything you’ve done was for others. For the nations, the people. For Eorzea. And what happened? They turned on you. Betrayed you. You owe them nothing._

But I know you. 

_I_ am _you._

_You can’t refuse them. You can’t turn your back on them. The moment someone cries out in pain or distress, you’ll be there to help them. Ever the hero._

_Someday it’s going to kill you. And I can’t let that happen._

You wanted strength. I have it. I’m stronger than you now, so–

_I’ll protect you this time. You don’t have to do a thing._

-

“You have to give her _back_.”

Akiv'a looked even smaller than usual, somehow. Ears laid back nearly flat against his skull, brow furrowed, the tip of his tail lashing anxiously. His one hand curled into a fist so tight the claws dug into his palm. 

“She hasn’t gone anywhere.” Confusion tinged their voice–was he afraid? Why? “She’s safe now.”

“Let me _talk_ to her.” He was trying to keep his voice steady. "If she's there, then--"

“I can’t.” Why didn’t he understand? It was for her own good.

“Safe doesnt matter if she can’t see, hear, _feel_ anything–”

"There wasn't any other choice." _Why didn’t he understand?_ “The world is hard–and she couldn’t handle it on her own. She chose this.”

“She wouldn't--that can't be...she wouldn't just give up!" He shook his head, looking away.

_Why does it hurt?_

"You think I'm lying?" Their voice wavered. Strange. Akiv'a's eyes flashed as he looked them over again, but the anger faded quickly to something else. An ache.

_This feeling...is the same. It's loneliness. Longing._

"You won't accept me in place of her."

"No one's going to replace her! Not whatever you are, not--I don't care what you do, just give her back! Give her back..."

He took a step forward, and they could feel the aether gathering around him.

Of course. A shade was no substitute. But it didn't matter. Whatever it took to protect her--yes, even if he hated them.

"She lost to me because she was weaker. That's why..."

Aether flared. A flame burst to life over Akiv’a’s right shoulder, the egi uncurling in one smooth motion.

Fragment of Ifrit. The flames were so familiar. _They remembered the anger, the horror, the heat on their face, the taste of ash on their tongue. Searing pain on the left side of their face. The gritty haft of a spear stolen from an Amalj'aa clutched in their bare hands._

One of her memories.

Akiv'a had summoned the creature without an incantation or even even a gesture. It was pure instinct.

"Imry isn't _weak_ ," he forced through gritted teeth. "If you've done something to her, then--"

They drew their sword with a bitter laugh. No shield, just nearly two yalms of steel. "There's nothing you can do."

The groaning of earth and stone, the sharp shriek of the wind–two more glowing forms joined the first. Akiv'a cast his arm wide, fingers curled.

" _Try me._ "

-

They lay on their back in the snow.

_If any of them really cared for her–_

A voice, calling.

_I’m sorry. I failed you. I couldn’t be what you needed._

“That’s all right,” Imry said. She sat with her knees up, arms folded atop them. She was looking into the distance. They could hear the sound of waves. 

“I’m the one who should be apologizing. I thought maybe–maybe…”

She put her head down.

“I was just running away. I thought I was sparing them. Everything was so hard already…I didn’t want anyone to see me falter.”

_They should have protected you! They should have done better!_

She shook her head. "I’ll–…I’ll go back now. I don’t want to worry anyone any longer. You can rest.”

Silence.

She looked up at them, eyes wide. “You’re not going to disappear, are you?“

_Of course not. You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried._

-

Pain was familiar, even if the rest of it was not.

They looked over their hands, then up into Imry’s anxious face, leaning over them.

"Did it–it worked!” Her voice wavered, and they realized after a moment that she looked strangely pale. Ashen. “Are you all right? How do you feel…?”

“What did you…you idiot, what did you _do–_ ” Instinctively they grabbed for her shoulder as she swayed, then sat down next to them abruptly. Sweat stood out on her forehead, and her breathing was fast and shallow.

“I-I’m all…I just need to sit for a moment. That’s all.” She reached up to rub her face with one arm, and a glint of light caught their eye; held in her other trembling hand, two crystals. The smaller one a deep, deep red, surface carved with a familiar symbol. The other they had never seen before, but knew immediately what it was.

Her Crystal of Light.

“ _What did you do._ ”

“I…I didn’t want you to be lonely anymore. It’s my fault–for making you…because I was–because I couldn't accept what was right in front of me...” Her fingers curled around the crystals, and she clutched them to her chest, over her heart. They could feel her heartbeat, faint and frantic. And something else–a clawing ache deep in their own chest. A gaping emptiness.

“ _No._ ”

They grabbed her by both shoulders, and she looked startled, but didn’t protest.

“You–you absolute–…” At a loss, they gave up and simply stared at her.

Imry smiled weakly. “I-I’m sure it’ll take getting used to, but…this way, we can both be here…”

"I don't _want_ to get used to it!" The words came hastily, panicked. Imry's eyes widened. "It _hurts_ \--I don't _want_ to be separate from you!"

"You were--hurting even when we were together. I could feel it..." Imry looked like she might cry. Somehow, that made them angrier. They pushed her away, and she nearly fell, catching herself with her free hand.

"You _idiot_ ," they hissed. "Look what you've done to yourself--you could have killed yourself! You can't just use aether like that!"

"I did," she said quietly, stubbornly, no longer looking at them.

"Reverse it," they demanded. When she didn't respond, they held out a hand, palm facing her. " _Take it back._ " 

Imry shook her head.


	3. final

Sidurgu lay in the snow, numb all over. The sky was still a dull grey, heavy with clouds. How long had it been? A bell, a few, a day…?

He knew the dark figure was nearby. It had sunk to its knees, was watching him with a strange cautious weariness in those eyes, the color of molten metal in a forge.

He shifted to stand and found his hand still closed tightly around the soul crystal. He opened his fingers to find a charred imprint in the heavy leather of his glove. It glowed only faintly now, and heat no longer radiated from it.

“You resent her, don’t you?”

The shade’s question startled him, as did the realization that he’d been about to ask it the very same thing.

What could he say? After all of it.

“Imry?”

“She’s gullible. Soft. She’ll do anything to help people, even if it means taking their pain upon herself. It’s a miracle she hasn’t been taken advantage of irreparably yet.”

He was silent.

“You’ve tried to warn her so many times and she doesn’t listen, right…? Just marches right on obliviously. She thinks she can fix everything, save everyone, with will alone. But you know the truth.”

“That’s why you exist.” The realization had come slow, but– “She tried to save you…but the dead can’t be salvaged–”

“That’s beyond even a Warrior of Light. There is no…me. The person she wanted to save is gone. She made a new one in his place…if you can call it that.”

It got to its feet again, turned away.

“You saw what happened when I returned to her. It’s impossible now. She’s rejected me–with this misguided belief that I can exist on my own. As if she’s done me a _favor._ Does that answer your question?”

_Do you wish for death?_

A half-formed existence cobbled together from memories. One that had never truly lived and therefore could not die…if he kept the soul crystal, then what? Would it persist? Disappear?

If it continued to exist, would it become alive?

Did it matter?

He thought of Rielle. Who had tasted life and love and then had it torn away from her. Who had lived a singular, miserable existence for years, but never stopped yearning for what she’d lost. Who had grasped at the first chance at freedom and ran.

Yes, they’d saved her…but she had held out her hand first.

If she had known nothing else, would they ever have met? Would she have wasted away in that damp, dark cell without anyone ever knowing she existed?

_You’re a sentimental fool after all,_ he thought to himself, and closed his fingers around the darkened soul crystal.

“She’s stronger than you,” he said aloud. “That’s how she keeps going.” The words came with difficulty, almost as if he were embarrassed to admit he had any praise for someone who infuriated and bewildered him so.

“I didn’t realize you were the type to gloat,” the creature replied icily. It still refused to look at him. “If she were _really_ that strong, I wouldn’t exist to begin with.”

“I can only imagine what goes on in Imry’s head if all you do is feel sorry for yourself,” Sidurgu said dryly, and lifted his hand. The stone arced gently and sank into the snow by the shade’s feet. It whipped around after a moment to stare at him, and its perturbed expression for once didn’t look out of place on Imry’s features.

“Dishonor our legacy and I’ll reconsider.” Sidurgu bent to dig his own sword out from the chunks of ice it had been wedged between, grunting a little with effort. He slung it across his back, turning to survey the path down the mountainside. “If you keep that stone–you have an obligation to it. She wasn’t suited for it, if she abandoned it like that.”

“How _dare_ you,” the creature snarled at him, and he braced himself for an attack, but it didn’t come.

“You badmouthed her first.” He knew it was petty, but couldnt resist. “At least you’ve got the right instincts, that’s a start. Give up the playacting, find your own path. She was right about that.”

“Why–”

“Fray wouldn’t have lost his temper like that. That’s all her. Good to know she’s got some real righteous fury after all–I just hope you didn’t take all of it with you.”

\-------------------------

The grave was a simple pile of stones, unmarked–save for the sword driven nearly halfway into the frozen ground behind it, a feat that couldn’t have possibly been accomplished by mortal strength alone. The two of them stood in silence for a long moment, one figure tall and dark-armored, the other small and pale, nearly lost against the icy landscape.

Rielle suddenly exhaled in a huff, her breath clouding the air. “Maybe I should have brought flowers after all, ” she said faintly. “He’d be so offended he’d come back to scold me.”

Sidurgu choked back a surprised laugh; she’d become much more talkative lately, but that sort of quip was definitely new. He watched her scrub her face with a sleeve out of the corner of his eye. She crouched down and wrapped her arms around her knees.

“…I had all these things I wanted to say, and now–I can’t remember any of them.”

“I know,” he said, and his tone said, _me too._

After a few more moments, he lowered himself to one knee, placing a hand on her shoulder.


End file.
